


Where the Boys Are

by auld_cheeky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clubbing, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Nobody's sexuality is defined but, Queer Character(s), Slytherin Pride, This is a big ol' love letter to Scorpius Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:10:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auld_cheeky/pseuds/auld_cheeky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The side of Scorpius that came out in clubs was one Al had only gotten to know in the past few years, but there were a few keys to understanding him...</p><p>The final one was that there was no keeping up with Scorpius Malfoy, and there was no extinguishing his light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Boys Are

**Author's Note:**

> I love Scorpius Malfoy and dialogue, so this is a celebration of both. 
> 
> Thanks for the [title song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDcvmrHV9Jc%0A) go to Connie Francis. 
> 
> Thanks forever go to Jo I and Jo II.

Albus had tossed and turned for what felt like, possibly, the final time that night – sheets sticky with his sweat from the midsummer humidity, walls still lit by fading sunlight even at ten – when he heard a distinctive crack break the pleasant quiet outside in the front yard, just below his open window. 

Seconds later, through the floor he felt more than heard his father mumble something like a disgruntled question to his mum, then he could vaguely make out the sound of footsteps, from the living room positioned beneath Albus’ bedroom and into the front hall. As it was nearly a clear shot up the stairs from the entrance, he could hear even the soft click as his dad verbally unlocked the door.

The front door opened, and he heard his father speak. “Scorpius,” the man sighed. Al was up and alert instantly. “What in bloody hell do you think–” 

“Good evening, Harry,” his friend drawled. “Is Albus home?”

“Of course he’s home, where else would he be? And why aren’t _you_ home?”

There was a pause. “Can I come in?” Scorpius asked.

His mum’s mellow, amused voice piped in. “Show the boy some manners and invite him in, love," she called. "And shut the door, my cooling charm already feels like a distant memory.”

“It’s the middle of the week, Gin.”

“It’s the middle of _summer_ , Harry. He’s not doing any harm.”

Al could vaguely hear his dad’s pointed huff, but when the door closed he knew Malfoy wasn’t on the other side of it. 

“Cheers, darling,” Scorpius said. Al could just picture it; the slender boy leaning on the doorframe of the living room, eyes twinkling with fondness at his mum, his fingers fiddling with something – a cat’s cradle string, a matchbook, a playing card – it didn’t matter, but it was always something.

Careful not to make too much noise, Al pulled out the top drawer to his bedside table and retrieved his Extendable Ears from within. In a manoeuvre that was second nature by now, he lowered one Ear out of the window and several metres lower. On the occasions his parents didn’t bother casting Imperturbable Charms every which way, this same trick granted him clear audio of what went on downstairs without him sticking his neck out and getting caught on the landing – Lily and James just assumed he was an apathetic teenage shit, but Al simply had a healthy fear of Weasley matriarchs.

“Alright, Scorp?” his mum said. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“Nah, I’m good, Ginny. Thanks, though. All’s well at the Manor, just got a little stir crazy. You know how it is.”

“Passed your test, did you?” Al’s dad spoke up, his tone gruff and begrudgingly cordial.

“That I did, couple weeks ago. I do so adore having wings, even if the wooziness hasn’t gone down much with all this practice. Takes time, Dad says. Doesn’t he know I don’t have that? Clearly he’s long since forgotten what it’s like to be young, and to want to Apparate all over. Dunno when’s the last time he broke out a broom or laid off the Floo powder, do you know? Old bat.” Scorp finished off with an airy, soft laugh.

“Went flying all over the crags while I was up in Scotland to visit Neville last month. Felt absolutely brilliant,” his mum said, reminiscing. “Harry, we should drop over on a weekend come September. Get some wind through those salt-and-pepper locks, yeah?” Al’s father hummed his agreement; it seemed he was much less perturbed now that he had the proposed getaway in mind, not to mention Mr Malfoy had been adequately chaffed for the night.

“Mind if I head upstairs, you two?” Scorpius asked after a beat.

“Not at all. Help yourself to the kettle if you like, Scorp, should be hot still.”

“Ta, I might do in a second. Need to reunite with my mate first, of course. See you in a bit.”

“Goodbye, Scorpius,” his dad said.

“Don’t miss me too much, Harry,” Scorp called gleefully. His heavy leather boots could be heard hitting each step. Al yanked up the Ear and shoved all its parts in his drawer, shutting it briskly. He then grabbed for his duvet, realising too late he wasn’t wearing pants and none were within reach, and covered up as best he could.

Scorpius stopped in the hallway right outside his bedroom door, his boots visible through the crack under the door. “Are you decent?” he murmured, his voice warm and buttery.

“Do you care?” Albus replied, shifting restlessly under the oppressive heat of his bedsheets and duvet combined.

The doorknob turned. “I care a great deal when the answer is no, Al. You know that.” Scorpius was lit from behind by the lights in the hall, but Al could still recognise that smirk, predatory but not derisive.

Al reached for the lamp beside his bed, clicked it on. Scorp had closed the door but he still had a hand resting on its knob behind his back. The other hand held a pencil that he was twiddling, passing it over and around his knuckles from finger to finger. He wore the same black boots as always, with faded black jeans and a dark graphic top that hung loose at his shoulders and exposed inches of pale midriff. 

“Can I come in?” Scorp smiled, his eyes twinkling but dark and blazing this time.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’d know how to ask permission if your life depended on it.” Al could feel his lips pulling at a smile despite himself, and he locked it down.

“I know how to do these things, love. I just make choices.”

“Why are you in my house right now, Scor?”

“Sincerest apologies.” He pouted, strolling over casually and using the pencil to lift a corner of the duvet by Albus’ hip. Al smacked at his wrist before it was raised too high. “Did I interrupt something?” Scorpius asked, all false innocence.

Without waiting for a response, Scorp continued. “Want to go out?”

“I presume you don’t mean _out_ out of doors,” Albus lolled his head lazily to eye his friend, who’d taken up a seat on his desk. 

“Of course not, Alley Cat.” The way he hunched over only exposed more skin – he possessed magnificent posture when he wanted to, this simply wasn’t one of those times. “Come on. I can Side-Along you for the first time.”

Al scratched at his temple, nose wrinkled as he pondered. “This is the kind of thing Geoffrey worries about, as you well know. ‘S probably why you do it,” he muttered. 

“It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s that he doesn’t trust everyone else, is that it?” Scorpius was fishing, antsy for a bite, and the pencil spun maddeningly faster as he pushed to get a rise from the boy beneath the covers. 

“Maybe my boyfriend just wants to know when I’m going to be surrounded by a hundred horny queers, none of whom is looking out for _me_.”

Atop the desk, Scor appeared hurt by the thought, but he seemed to need to mull the statement over before defending himself. Instead, peering up through the bit of platinum chin-length hair that had fallen over his face, he bit his plush rosy lower lip. “He just wants to be horny with you,” he said, still smiling.

Al brushed at the duvet across his lap, furiously shooing away dust only he could see. “And he has every right, doesn’t he? But he also _cares_ , and at least I know if I did end up off my face with him, I’d be alright, yeah? That’s a bit comforting, I’d say. Chrissake, he worries, better get a new one.

“Besides the fact, it’s fuckin’ _unlikely_ they’re gonna let me out, you twat. Just because you’re off in your ivory bubble for three months doesn’t mean the less noble and less ancient ones float around the whole time sipping mojitos and flitting between acquaintances’ parlours, never wearing the same dress robes twice.”

It seemed Scorpius was dutifully mulling his words over, aware his previous approach hadn’t gotten him as far as he would’ve liked. “You say I can’t ask permission,” he said finally.

Al snorted. “Yeah.”

“I _can’t_ be denied, Albus. There’s not one good reason, or even a bad one, for you to wank the night away here like you have every night lately, instead of enjoying some fresh air and good company for a few hours... Perhaps until sunrise – that sounds quite picturesque, doesn’t it?”

“You’ll flip your shiny hair and bat your puny little lashes, is that it? Mr and Mrs Who Lived will be all over you, beseech you make me a real man and keep me out for as long as it takes?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“I need to tell Geoff.”

“You do that, then. I’ll go promise your parents guaranteed clean sheets one night only or their money back. Wait–” He paused. “Make that _your_ sheets clean, we musn’t be flippant with terms. If no one gets laid tonight I’ll be forced to bury myself alive with shame, no two ways about it.”

“Maybe he can take work off tomorrow,” Al replied, shifting to dig his mobile out from under the covers.

“Maybe he can’t.”

“Maybe you’ll go work your magic and stop shitting on my boyfriend.”

“...Maybe I will.”

– o – o – o –

Scorpius Malfoy absolutely thrived off of dark rooms that smelled too much of alcohol and sweat, not even a little of fresh air. He didn’t crave anonymity, didn’t experience any of the shyness society told him to exhibit or any of the reservedness his blood lines did – not on dance floors, at least. The boy Al had grown up beside didn’t desire his photo taken or his name remembered, but being known came as a side effect of his affinity for nights out and unabashed flirtatiousness. Even without a drop of liquor the boy – man, now, though he shied away from the rite-of-passage implications of the term – was blunt as a sledgehammer, spoke his mind before it got a preview of what he was about to say. It endeared Scorp to most and though he wasn’t one for many long-term engagements, he had enough admirers and fast friends at any one moment that he was protected from those who were most deeply offended by his gutsy mouth. “If I couldn’t network I wouldn’t be a Malfoy, simple as that,” he always said. 

He knew it was impossible to be friends with everyone, and concerned himself not with heartfelt, spiritual connections as much as supply and demand; if people wanted a laugh or to fancy themselves appreciated for an hour, he gave them just that. Pragmatic-like. In return, Scorp received more than enough to get by.

On the dance floor the man was… mesmerising, a beacon of light that owed only part of its magnetism to that luminous pearly hair and those crystalline opals for eyes.

The side of Scorpius that came out in clubs was one Al had only gotten to know in the past few years, but there were a few keys to understanding him. He didn’t want alcohol if it didn’t come with music and people, and he liked sex but he liked chat just as much if not more, and would certainly drop a dull hook-up for someone who might just end up making good conversation. The final one was that there was no keeping up with Scorpius Malfoy, and there was no extinguishing his light.

An hour into their night and Geoff still hadn’t gotten out of the house, but already Scorpius desperately needed to powder his nose. Al stood in the restroom, his head tipped against the hand dryer, and slid in and out of alertness thanks to the beers he’d inadvisably started with after being ripped from his bed. His friend held court from a perch seated between the two sinks, and what seemed to be a blowjob happening in a nearby stall gave him no pause – but then neither did it draw much reaction from the rotation of blokes passing through, using the loo to actually use it.

“I think I’m in love with them, Al,” he proclaimed. “Very in love.”

Al’s eyelids felt heavy, and he’d learned to rest them in the times he could – his second wind would come riding in when Scorp next broke out his wallet or opened his big mouth and got someone else to break out theirs and buy a round. 

“Who?” Albus asked.

“The first one I danced with. Godric, I feel gone. She’s everything. Isn’t she? I feel like she is. Did you see–” He became momentarily distracted by a lovely tall, bulky dark thing who had pushed bodily around Scorpius to reach the soap dispenser. 

“Why hello,” Scorp said perkily, “Are you going back to yours soon? What a coincidence, as am I–”

“Taken, love,” the man interrupted but with a slip of a grin. 

Scorpius’ lashes fluttered and he blushed. “Forward of you, that, handsome. Fortunately I’m taken with you as well.” But his parry was entirely playful; no one liked to flirt very long with a pretty face when it had nothing behind it.

The man smirked over at Scorpius while drying his hands. “ _You_ are quite a catch,” he said, eyes warm.

Albus suppressed a laugh, smiling into his hand in a well-disguised yawn. “We’re aware.”

In a last minute gesture the bloke held out a hand for Scorpius’ own and brought it to his lips. “Ciao, bello,” he said before exiting.

Cracking his eyes open, Al felt his smug expression soften a bit at the smitten grin on his companion’s face. “You were saying?”

Scorp chuckled softly in return. “I like him as well. I hope you’ve been taking notes, sir.”

“Not enough parchment in the world, love.”

With a sigh, Scorpius replied: “We need to work on refining your shorthand.

“But you can’t forget that _goddess_ , Al, whatever you do. Did you see the way they parted the seas with one look? I could fill volumes with odes to their hips alone.” 

_Maybe a few pages at most_ , Albus amended. “Why don’t we go see where regular words get you, yeah?”

Scorpius leapt from his seat and bounded out the exit, with Al close behind and their hands interlocked to navigate the floor together. Before any moves were made on anyone, though, Scorpius turned to his friend, mouthing “ _Drinks?_ ” with excited wide eyes and a comically phallic drinking gesture. Al nodded, taking steps where Scorp had already waded through the crowd.

Elbows perched on the bar and waiting as patiently as he was capable, Scorpius’ eyes lit up again. He fixed Al with a thoughtful gaze. “What’s she drink, you think?” A pause. “Merlin, what do _I_ drink?” 

Christ.

Time passed in blips of clarity and blurs of unconscious, delirious minutes-maybe-hours, during which Scorp hardly even left Al’s side for a wee but also managed to go impressively far with two separate individuals, lasting for long stretches of the DJ’s set. When Malfoy got chatty enough that it was obvious the energy drinks were winning against the shots, he pulled back and accompanied Al to the bar, somehow making the Potter boy believe it was his own idea. Scorpius ordered drinks for the two of them, some fruity cidre that he tended to down like it would replenish his electrolytes.

“Blondes think their looks are enough, Alley Cat. They’re so _wrong_ ,” he moaned loudly, leaning into his friend’s side from atop his own stool.

“I think you’re fine company even when your mouth’s not open,” Albus assured Scorp solemnly. 

“You say that but you don’t just mean it in the funny way,” his friend replied, his tone vulnerable and his face weighed with a frown. “You don’t,” Scorpius repeated, despairing, his fingers fiddling mindlessly with the wrapper of a condom he’d picked up from the free pile in the loo earlier.

“You’re better than them, Scor. That what you want to hear?”

“I thought I did.”

“Would you rather I tell you you’re the opposite of a pretty face? What’s wrong with liking pretty faces?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Malfoy responded with the slightest slur to his voice.

“I like Geoff’s pretty face. I love _your_ pretty face, and sometimes that’s about all I can tolerate at one time; but you’ve more than that, love, of course you do. Oh,” he added, grinning, “and I _adored_ the looks of whoever it was you were impregnating earlier on that sofa.”

Scorpius cringed, mouth thin while his teeth tightened crookedly in a grimace. “That wasn’t very good, was it?” His companion snorted out a laugh at the end. 

Al’s response rolled out in a drawl: “It seemed _quite_ consensual, at least… Dunno, you tell me.”

“He wasn’t just pretty, he was lovely,” the blonde sighed. “Still, dull. Not very memorable – not very anything, really. Is that what I am?”

“No.” Al pursed his lips in dismay, and knew Scor would make that reaction his fault too.

“If I’d been more clear-headed, maybe I wouldn’t have…”

Albus nodded slowly. “Ah, you wouldn’t have been yourself. Would’ve been a restrained, dull and clinical robo-Muggle.”

“I’ve told you to stop using that word, Al, it gives me nightmares.” Still, a smile parted Scorpius’ rosy red lips and he rolled his eyes sweetly.

“Are you listening, mate? I’ve got no desire to spend any time with that censored, abridged you, so get any daydreams of ‘mundane you’ out of that pretty little head. You’re you sober and you three sheets to the wind and plenty of blokes and birds love both ‘you’s, dull ones included – but also, on the other end of your ludicrous spectrum of interestingness, there’s me and there’s also you, loving yourself in your more intelligent moments.”

His friend was a bit speechless then, slumped more forwards and towards Al at the counter, mouth floating around but not landing on words easily. “You’ve just said quite a nice thing,” he said with reproach. His voice was soft but still this room of the club had few speakers and his awe came through loud and clear.

“To myself, as well.” Al shrugged.

Scorpius stared for a bit, nowhere in particular, and long minutes later let out a frustrated huff, turning back to Albus. “Where’s _Geoff_?” He spat the name out. “How could he possibly think coming out this once is not worth whatever slap on the wrist he might receive in the morning? _You’re_ a catch, damnit,” the man hissed. “No two ways about it.”

Next to him, Al frowned with bemusement, running his hand up and down the glass of his cidre bottle.

“I don’t think it’s about me,” he said, shaking his head fondly at his friend. 

But Scorp’s eyes were not laughing, instead lit with cold, brilliant flames when he responded. “It should be,” he said firmly, gaze sharp and luminous. “I believe that.”

– o – o – o –

Al was not entirely used to the ravenous focus of his friend being turned in his direction, at least not with such constancy throughout the night as they visited their favourite haunts. He wasn’t comfortable unless, on the exterior, observers could mistake his role fairly easily for Scorp’s bodyguard or accessory. Apparently that wouldn’t be happening tonight, if Scorpius had anything to say about it.

Two dance mates, strangers, occupied the space between them and still Albus felt overly restless and warm bearing the brunt of Scorpius’ gaze, felt it pinning him closeby. He felt the profound slipperiness of his own attention when it was targeted anywhere but at Scorpius. The man at Al’s front danced fluidly but gripped at his narrow and vulnerable hips too urgently to be appealing (or particularly complimentary), with thick hands that had a tendency to stray lower, ‘off limits’ as far as his absentee boyfriend was concerned. But the distracted relocation Albus carried out felt mechanical, just cause-and-effect; the bloke would push, Al would pull back – what actually felt like infidelity was Scor’s keen gaze on him over another bloke’s shoulder. The young blonde was summoning in Al’s head flashbacks of his sharply affectionate displays of more-thanness earlier in the night, excessive even for Scorp.

After all, it was rarely about what Scorpius said. Which isn’t to say he didn’t mean that which did pass through his lips… only that it was more telling to note his actions. 

Years back, when the two boys had only been acquainted through Ministry this's or Quidditch that's and nothing more, the Malfoy heir apparent – born into a house apologetic not for whom it belonged to, only what it’d born witness to – had faced a very tumultuous, up-in-the-air first year at Hogwarts, and could’ve very easily shuttered himself deeper inside his lonely upbringing upon exposure to the rich hatred to be encountered outside the manor’s doors. To the chagrin of many tormentors and hecklers and passive bystanders it mostly made him laugh; the idiocy of being alienated because of irreversible, mostly irrelevant history served as tinder for a unique brand of unself-conscious delight for Malfoy, party of one.

Albus Severus and Scorpius Hyperion – tiny Atlases, children of the War. When given the freedom to choose between mindless contribution to their family legacies or conscientious deconstruction of those same expectations, the choice of the latter was obvious to them. By second year they'd drawn together like opposite poles much as their fathers had, but these two young wizards had decided only the present could dictate their futures. 

By his third year Scorpius was batting his lashes at his father to spend the occasional holiday not in France or North Africa but rather in ' _England? Salazar, why, my dear boy?'_ The Malfoy heir was constantly proclaiming frivolous loves and short-lived devotions to undertakings as varied as following moderately ascetic Jainism, becoming a star Olympic diver, and pursuing the magical mentorship of one Teddy Lupin. In Scorp’s fourth year Teddy was summoned for the first time to family dinners at the Manor (appearing at its gates looking curiously blonde and pale, though slightly green in the face as well) and he had retained his regular seat there ever since. 

So Scorp’s loves, his proclamations and sweeping oaths made in good _and_ bad taste, they meant much, yes, but they weren’t what you looked for, to reach the centre of things. The man had hundreds of thousands of words to dole out every week but only limited minutes of actions and gestures to convey his hopes and affections, and Potter was at the best vantage point to collect and analyse Scorp’s changing behaviours as needed.

Of course, it was easy when Malfoy didn’t show himself to too many others for Al to be dishonest with himself. There was no one around to hit Albus with a stinging slap of reality or grab his chin, point his attention in the direction he knew it should be facing. And as for asking the man himself… well, there were things Al didn’t see himself ever being capable of asking Scorpius, questions that started like, _Do you think you’d want…?_ and _How_ much _do you reckon you…?_ and _When you said ‘love’ that time, what exactly…?_

It was perhaps safer, less likely to rattle the faultlines in the middle Potter boy’s heart, to assess Scorp’s movements first, biased though Al’s observations would undoubtedly be.

Al’s head tipped up and he scanned for any sign of Geoff’s familiar face near the bar, by the stairs to the dance floor or around the room’s darker edges. He wanted to make excuses for the man he hadn’t heard from for the better part of a day – the reception in the club was poor so he could’ve tried calling and failed, Geoff might’ve passed out ages ago from an exhausting work day, Geoff’s neighbour finally went into labour – but Al was also long past the point of putting up with the endless speculation. There were answers right in front of him, and that had been the case for some time now.

Across the way Scorp wiggled his fingers and asked a question of Al with a raised eyebrow – whatever he saw prompted him to edge his way about both their dance partners with a too-sweet half-smile at both of them. "Can I have this dance?" He directed the question at Albus but had nearly yelled it, pivoting until he was more firmly wedged between Al and the others.

Al didn't get to reply before he was danced backwards and playfully shoved through an archway into the next room. Once the coast was clear Scorp stepped back and collapsed giggling on the bar beside them. "Handsy little bastard, wasn't he?" he chirped, snorting. 

He reared up and steadied himself on the bar, trying to straighten out his features into something sombre. “I must say, you’re exceptionally gorgeous even when disgustingly sweaty like this, Al." 

Scorp's lips quivered on a laugh and his stony façade was quick to crumble after that. "Blame's probably not all yours, though. Think he left some sweat and slobber of his own there" – he poked Al's chest – "there, maybe there. Oh, that's extra questionable." He remarked, gesturing at a drink stain on Al's trousers. "I knew I didn't trust you two to have just good, clean fun."

– o – o – o –

At some point after midnight Al ran out of cash and drink, and realised he’d need to go find a cash machine as he vastly preferred struggling with Muggle cash points rather than struggling with his Muggle debit card in front of a few impatient bartenders and several dozen impatient clubgoers. By this time he had most certainly taken the edge off if there had been one at the start of the night (which, if you asked his parents, or his siblings, or Scorp – there had been).

Half an hour or so previous, Scorpius had stolen away, absurdly detaching his pink lips from the jaw of a lovely girl with more ink than skin on display, making copious apologies before leaving, as ever, and drifting outside to the smoking area. This tended to be the time of night when the two lost track of each other; Al couldn’t return home with his clothes sweating too much cigarette smoke as his mum thought ‘every mother deserves to be nursed by her sons in her old age, not vice versa,’ and his dad tended to wrinkle his nose at the smell even on the street, so uncomfortable with the scent that none of his children were tempted to rebel in that way, at least. 

Al had slipped into dancing with a maybe-couple near the club’s most popular bar, and he hadn’t made much in terms of conversation but seemingly _had_ made friends. One of the boys with which he was dancing, a gangly and loose-limbed figure, raised his glass to Albus’, crinkling his eyes when he heard the proposed toast – _“To… our livers?”_ – and then tipping back. Scorpius had been gone long enough that Al had gained a heart-racy buzz of his own, so he felt untouchable and bold and overjoyed down to his bones, felt weightless on his feet and breathless with opportunities.

Pulse and breath controlled almost entirely by the music reverberating through his body, Albus felt everything in himself shift in the moment he chose to hand himself over to the rhythms of the bass and synths. Nothing was forced upon him; it was a seduction and he felt all the more alive, that this moment had chosen him too. A pop anthem filled with electronic goodness had everyone in his surroundings dancing and jumping faster than the shifting beams of light could keep up, but he caught snippets of laughs and could just take in happiness swelling around him, an energy that made his veins feel warm with rightness, closeness, joy. Draughts of sweet-smelling air conditioning swept across Al’s forehead, drawing up wisps of hair and cooling the spare droplets of sweat at his hairline and collar.

With the next number the tempo slowed but the bass was magnified to something that ricocheted around the room like a force of nature. Though his dance partners had drawn closer to each other to grind into the hip-hop’s bouncing dips and curves, they didn’t seem to be asking for privacy so Albus didn’t feel pushed to wander, nor did he bother trying. What he could do was afford the possible-boyfriends space enough that he was only arse-to-arse with other strangers on the floor.

The other one of the pair, devastatingly gorgeous with fierce but endearing almond eyes, grinned a feline, winsome smile at Al, eyeing him for long moments as the three continued to dance. Now Albus had the whole attention of a stare that was laid back but scarily pinning and sharp, and nowhere to turn away, but thankfully less of the instinct to back away and run that he might’ve had if he’d been sober. Eventually, deciding he’d been distracted enough maybe, the bloke bit his cheek on a delectable smile (hiding nothing) and braced a hand on Albus’ shoulder to get on tiptoe, necessary for him to reach Al’s ear. Al was taken by surprise slightly, had assumed this was the more closed-off, less outgoing man of the two and would remain that way, keeping most of his energy focused on his tall and full-of-life not-just-friend.

“I’m not looking,” the guy said, low but audible, “...obviously.” And he reached out a hand to squeeze the tall bloke’s own, giving him a once-over that would have been loud and clear to anyone watching. “But I couldn’t _not_ look... you’ve got an arse I would _kill_ for, mate.”

With a raised eyebrow, out of the corner of his eye Al caught a glimpse of pointy white teeth in response, then the man amended: “Well, or I’d die for, how’s that? Tell me, _can_ you cut steel with it? Diamonds?” In response to Albus’ bemused expression, he huffed in despair. “What? Don’t tell me you haven’t tried?"

“Can’t say I have,” Al replied, loud but not turning his head fully.

“Pity, that,” the bloke murmured in his ear. “Listen,” he began, pulling back to check Albus’ face and see if he was still listening. “Listen, you probably have a better chance of having a good night if you hang out with people who are less... attached than we are, yeah?”

He knew the guy’s meaning, but still he replied, “I’m _having_ a good night. Look,” he paused, “if you two want to be alone I’m pretty sure the done thing is just you two up and go, but tell me and I can leave you well alone too, yeah?”

“Oh sweet Jesus.” The shorter man growled, but his voice shook with a sweet laugh. “How has someone not scooped you up already?”

Albus scoffed, shaking his head. “Couldn’t tell you.”

He felt a renewed pressure at his shoulder, and he turned to make eye contact. “Mate, we’re not trying to get rid of you. You’re a keeper, without question.” At his side the guy smiled with something softer in his eyes, actively trying to convey his genuine fondness with what were generally tricky, harsh features. “What I think you should, should do…”

The bloke was interrupted by his other half dipping his head down to their level. His face was impassive as he spoke over the music. “Where’s your friend?”

Al felt a pang in his chest and over his features there ghosted something sour, what was possibly a scowl or an _‘of course’_ eye roll or a huff of bittersweet laughter. Were they really moving to get rid of him _and_ get his friend back over in the same–

At whatever they saw in his expression the taller boy backtracked but it seemed his partner was a step ahead of them both – pursing his lips he shook his own head, then nudged Albus to look back over his shoulder. The sight of Scorp’s wide-eyed face at the front of the room, his slightly inhibited gaze scanning over the crowd, sent Al’s breath stuttering. 

“ _There’s_ your friend,” the tall one repeated closer to his ear, and the one at Al’s side reverted to relatively quiet, all eyes and ears for what must’ve been a second of Al deliberating but felt like minutes. In the end Scorpius made the decision for him as his squinting eyes scanned, finally settling where Al’s attention was wholly concentrated on the blonde. Quick as a flash Scorp’s face went alight with a smile and he sauntered down the steps to the floor then weaved to Al’s side, arriving with barely a hair out of place.

“Hi,” Scor breathed, cheeks slightly flushed, glancing with a friendly beam at the three men surrounding him, but eager and shyly relieved in his gaze just for Al. 

Scorp’s voice was clear over the relentless beat. “I’m sorry, I got caught up…” he said, and his shoulders shook with a bashful laugh. “Um, I met a Fiona and she very much appreciated my advice about some relationship issues she’s been experiencing with… a Sophie, I believe. She was desperate to buy me a Domino’s, you see.” He laughed more freely and spoke openly to the group now, meeting their eyes in turn. “Would _not_ take no for an answer.”

“You’re here now,” the taller bloke of the couple prompted, amused and playful.

Scorp nodded and winked. “Asked Fi where Sophie was now – said she was back at home. Couldn’t get Miss Fiona in a taxi fast enough. Truly.”

“Didn’t want a pizza?” Al asked, frowning slightly.

Scorp hunched over on a laugh, still short of breath from his way over. He raised his head, eyes still smiling. “Maybe later.”

The movement amongst the four men had devolved into something stilted and unsatisfying, unfit for what was a maddeningly energetic set, and it seemed the dark wave of conversation that Al had been headed into had receded now. 

The bloke who’d been chatting to him, level with Al’s shoulder again now, caught Albus’ wandering gaze and gave an errant nod, fast and unaccompanied by any spoken explanation. He turned to his someone-important. “Want to dance, stranger?” he asked the other man, up through his eyelashes, eyebrow quirked.

“Always,” the guy answered with a barely concealed grin, reasserting his hold around the man’s waist like it was his resting state to which he was returning. “Have a good night, men.” He addressed Scorpius and Al with a genial smile before he and his partner drifted too far away.

“Of course, you too.” Albus smirked as the others became caught up in each other, intertwined, the quieter one reaching up to muss the other’s hair and caress behind his ears. Before they disappeared for good, the smaller bloke looked up as if reminded of something. His keen eyes took in Scorpius and Al, drawn closer together without a group to accommodate. “A great night,” he said, building on his partner’s farewell with a final radiant, crooked smile.

Not one to wait for invitations, Scorpius lifted an eyebrow coyly. He reached out to toy with Albus’ collar. “You heard the lad, Potter,” he said. “Shall we?” 

He was all the more irresistible for having been thrown off guard, for having lost the rhythm but then bounced back. The man was so _comfortable_ , didn’t need to tell all the jokes or hear all the punchlines yet remained captivating whether he was in the background or foreground. To Albus, it sometimes felt as if Scor knew better how to occupy the background than Al knew how to put him there.

Albus searched the dance floor with a cursory glance, but couldn’t recall what he’d been trying to find there before. “We gonna dance?” he asked.

“All the kids are doing it.” Scorpius leaned in to make himself heard. His voice was softly innocent, held a laugh’s lilt, but his expression betrayed the illusion – his lips edible and full, his eyes invitingly wide and verging on predatory, his attention unwavering and intent. Scorpius' breath was warm as it glanced across Al's features, smelling and tasting of something sweet and tart.

Al allowed himself to be manoeuvred close into the space of Scorp’s front, to match the lines of his hips and legs to the crooks of Scorpius’ own. Even if pressed, Albus couldn’t recall the last time they’d danced face to face except during the occasional ball or celebration at school – it was heart-wrenchingly intimate, and it really wasn’t done. The crowd pressed in from all sides but it was like a hug more than a squeeze, really; nevertheless it left Al wrong-footed, buzzing wherever he and Scorp touched. The crowd made all of it, the bumps and brushes and everything, not just necessary but okay – or at least Al knew he was meant to welcome it. He felt the warm, firm press of his mate's thigh at his own, though, and felt his knees try to go out. When Scorpius slung an arm around his neck and the slick, sweaty inside of Scorpius' elbow met the sensitive skin there, he felt himself shiver and could only hope Scorp didn't feel it too.

Al fixed his friend with a narrow, calculating squint. “'The kids are doing it,' huh? I thought Scorpius Malfoy acted and the ‘kids’ followed,” he teased with as much bravado as he could muster.

Scorp huffed, a mix of amusement and indignation. “If you’re going to generalise and be ignorant at least have the decency to speak about me in the present tense, Al.”

“Sorry.”

“‘Course you’re not.” Scorpius smiled wryly, rolling his eyes.

That was too much, that shy, intimate gesture that was nothing new but felt too sharp, too raw in this moment with no barrier whatsoever between them.

Al’s shoulders shook with laughter at Scorp (and with nerves) as he used the light moment to shift their positions, settling with his back to Scorpius’ front in the way they were used to. His hands circled around Scorp’s wrists at his sides, entwining their fingers so their forearms were tight together, hot and unyielding as Al brought their arms to rest, hugging there beneath the dip of his ribs. “You think you’ve got me figured out, mate.”

“ _Mate_ ,” Scorpius mimicked, a bit catty though not bitterly so. He squeezed his limber arms tight then, rocking them both side to side – the interruption of rhythm garnering the whole of Al’s attention. “I don’t think that at all. Nietzsche said, ‘ _The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die.’_ I know _you_ , I don’t pretend to know your future or even your present. I don’t have to,” Scorpius said, then paused. “You of all people, I don’t _want_ to have you ‘figured out.’ You’re not afraid to change, you… _you’re_ unknowable – _you_ might as well be immortal, Potter.”

“Riddle would be jealous,” Albus said with a smirk, making as if to turn around in his friend’s arms to ensure he was heard. He could see a wickedly sweet laugh pass over Scorp’s features.

“Salazar, yeah,” Scorpius breathed in response, eyes alight as Albus seemed to change his mind, settling back to his front again instead. “Gods, look at you. What happened to us, Alley Cat? When was the last time I got to be the little spoon? Bet I could fit my hands closed around your waist now. Pick you up with a hand to spare, mm?”

Albus flushed and looked down to the side, his hair slipping to cover him, and he huffed. “Shut up,” he said, loud enough that really only Scorpius could hear. But his hips still rocked in tune with the music, and he made no moves to distance himself. 

The song shifted to one that was more punishing, that made him feel like his heart was mistaken in thinking the cavity in his chest was its home. Scorpius took a breath and adjusted his grip on Al’s hipbones, releasing the man’s body weight then catching him again, in turn bringing Al’s arse minutely closer to his own groin. Albus’ breath was coming shorter like it always did when he’d had a few, but his vision was sharp in the strobe lights when his gaze flicked back to meet Scorpius’ over his shoulder.

“We’re different...” Scorp murmured thoughtfully with lips moist at his temple, closer and clearer than Al could ever remember hearing him before.

“Better?” Al asked. His heart beat at double-time, maddening though not out of control, not unpleasantly so.

“Couldn’t say.” 

With that Scorp had broken the camel’s back, and Al twisted firmly to meet his eyes, to gravely assess what he was hearing with the sight of Scorpius right in front of him, unfettered and unfogged. “You have a lot of words, Scor. You can’t say or you won’t?”

Eyes widening with something like worry or fright, Scorpius averted his eyes. “I don’t know, Al. Can’t give you an answer I don’t have.”

Al shook his head, unsatisfied with the setting and the noise and the answer all at once. He slipped a hand into Scorpius’ and navigated them both off the floor, up stairwells and out into the night air, warm enough but still a shock to the system. Assessing the clusters of people gathered outside, Al dropped his companion’s hand but indicated towards a spot against the stone wall where they could stand and hear each other, relatively uninterrupted. They settled there, shoulders against the cool rough surface, staring each other down with Al holding his silence, adamantly biting back the words that wanted to come out despite not knowing what those words were.

Scorp wet his lips, gazing calmly back at him. “I’m not an _other_ person, Al. I–I’m Scorpius, your… I’m Scorpius Malfoy.”

“Make more sense, Scor,” Al pleaded, and another time it might’ve been airy with humour but this was nothing of the sort.

“I can only be me, Albus.” Scorpius’ voice broke, suddenly wet with tears he didn’t seem to be shedding, and it ached to hear. He hunched his shoulders and leant so his nose burrowed softly at Al’s collar, so his head tipped to rest in the crook of Albus’ neck where it had always welcomed him. “I can’t be your _best friend_ or your _mate_ or _anything else_ , it doesn’t agree with me. I think I’m just yours, Al, whatever capacity that’s in, because I like plenty of people but I don’t belong to anyone but fucking Albus Severus Potter, and you’re attached, aren’t you? And I don’t want to be your _Geoff_ , Godric, and I don’t want to be your other woman, and I don’t want to have you when another _doesn’t_ have you. I would rather enjoy self-preservation and refrain from admitting we _are_ different-better, I feel, and not just in this summer or this moment in time or when you’re giving me shiteloads of material to fuel a jealousy so hot _Dante_ would be jealous.

“I want all of you, as I’ve already put all of me on the table, but I won’t force it to happen. I would never intentionally take something as good as you, Albus, away from someone else – I know how good they have it and I know I can’t have something if it’s not there. I want to have first pick with you because we’re already there for each other at last call, and I deserve more than just getting your time when it hasn’t been claimed by someone else first.”

Al stared on, saying nothing, and Scorpius pulled back to look him in the eye. Whatever he saw there made him take a step back and bring his arms up to hug himself tightly. Al could physically feel the chill taking over as the other man closed himself off. With a bitter twist to his lips, Scorpius paused, exhaling frustratedly. “You can tell me to make more sense, Al, but I can’t make more sense than that.”

Hesitating, Al looked down between them, breathing through his parted lips. “I don’t love the way you pass judgment, Scor,” he said, his voice low and words barbed. “And I like it even less when I judge myself with what sounds like your voice in my head, when I think about things you’re too kind to comment on.”

“I don’t know if kind is the right word…”

“Well it’s what I’m sticking with. There are…” Al broke off, sighing defeatedly. His shoulder slumped and his head bowed – he couldn’t remotely feel out where to pick back up after losing the plot entirely inside the club. He settled for honesty, with no rhyme or reason to what he was saying and how.

“There are things that I know are not great, ab–about me. My life. I don’t appreciate so much as accept my extended family, take them for granted, and maybe that goes for my parents too. Maybe Lily and James, even. Um, I tend to be closed off to new people, and frankly I haven’t been given justifiable cause, not really.” _Not like you_ , goes unspoken. “Sometimes it feels like if we didn’t spend so much time together I could have just as easily ended up eating meals at school alone by year five. Could’ve left Hogwarts without anything but qualifications to show for it.”

Scorpius shook his head at that, brows furrowed but lips firmly pressed together.

“And with Geoff... Well, you know it – I settle. He has his own life now with the Ministry, and it’s not really _our_ life, I don’t really have a say in it as such. Geoff was, well, slightly more interested in him-and-me when we lived in the same place and played on the same Quidditch pitch and could eat meals together and” – Al felt his cheeks redden, but he wasn’t sure for whose sake – “when we could find time for a shag once in a while. He hasn’t even– Merlin, we’ve seen each other a lot over the summer but it’s not what I imagined it to be, and I had low expectations, Scorpius, know that.” 

“He couldn’t even be arsed to come to Hogsmeade more than once,” Al choked out on a laugh. “I know he has work and shit. I always gave him plenty of notice, though. Tonnes.”

As though his emotions had been dammed by some unknown force, they hit Al all at once in that instant and were enough to make him want to crawl out of his skin. The realities spewing from his mouth had never been put to words in his thoughts much less spoken aloud, and his skin felt too tight, itchy and constricting. He felt a wave of unease roil through his gut.

“Do you–” Al looked up. “Can we go get some money out?”

Scorpius raised an eyebrow, straightening. His hands froze, fingers curled around a lighter he’d been toying with. Scorp had never worried much about Trace Charms catching him especially not in London with its innumerable magical hotspots, and had in fact received various warnings for underage violations but nothing more than a slap on the wrist. If Scorpius respected just one statute, however, it was that of Secrecy. It didn’t seem to have to do with ancient times and his ancestors’ controversial history with the matter, though, as much as it had to do with safety, with community. Plus, he always reasoned, the Malfoys hardly needed any more reasons to tempt persecution. 

So he stuck to the Bics around Muggles – besides, he said, it was stifling to depend on a wand _all_ the time.

Scorpius eyed Albus, whose gaze had fallen back to the pavement. He nodded cautiously. “Sure we can.” 

Al nodded briskly, leading the way out of the alley without looking back. When they reached a machine, his eyes wandered around the console lost as usual... except he knew it was going on for ages. He was faraway, distracted and maybe a far cry from sober. 

Wordlessly, Scorpius slipped the card from Al’s hand and pressed it into the slot. With a skittish glance upward which Al didn’t return, Scorp seemed to decide Al could manage the rest on his own and shuffled away to lean on the wall beside the cash machine – this part usually took a while too. He continued to sneak cautious sideways looks at Albus, scraping his fingernails over his collarbone nervously and incessantly until Al’s hand shot out, stilling the movement with two fingers. Al collected his card and bills with his other hand, stuffing them in his back pocket. 

“Let’s blow this joint, yeah?” Albus’s eyes finally drifted over the face of the man in front of him. He half-smiled, coaxing and soothing Scorpius as best he could.

Scorpius snorted, planting his feet. “Is that it, then?” He seemed bitter, but not as much as he seemed unsurprised, and that was a stinging blow.

Slightly dismayed, Al pressed his lips together. “I’ll talk,” he conceded. “Walk with me?”

A lovely flush lit up Scorp’s cheeks, sharp contrasts to the purplish circles under his eyes. “Fine, if I choose where we go and how we get there.”

“Of course. As long as there’s minimal splinching.”

“Fucking pushing your luck, Albus,” Scorpius warned.

Al cleared his throat. “Noted. I’ll just– shall I shut up, then?”

“No. You can _talk_ , though.”

They tended to walk close on summer nights, arms slung around each other when it wasn’t too warm out, but now Scorpius kept a wide berth and crossed his arms defensively.

Al bit his lip. He hoped to hear an intake of breath or anything to indicate Scorp was going to break the silence and let him off the hook, but none came. They passed a row of bustling chip shops in silence, and Scorpius turned to face him under a street lamp at the street corner, unimpressed.

“Think I’ve done my fair share of sharing, Al,” Scorpius intoned sombrely. 

“Alright,” Al sighed. “Alright.”

“We left off at the point about your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Al sighed. 

“Well. You don’t have to answer this. But it makes me wonder what kept you together.”

Al spoke to his shoes. He huffed. “I thought what I wanted was, I don’t know, security? A stable, dependable relationship, you know. One day in the distant future I pictured myself not worrying about failing to fill my parents’ shoes – they say they couldn’t care less and I believe them, mostly, but _I_ care and I know full well what other people think about me. Geoff’s got a promising career, we care about each other, right, and I love him more than anyone else I’ve dated. I mean, even if my N.E.W.T.s went to shit I’d know I had something…”

“What would you have, Albus?” Scorpius asked, stark and watchful.

“I’d have a man by my side with something.” Al smirked, resentful but unsure where to direct that other than at himself.

Scorpius nodded, thoughtful, and simply kept walking.

“It’s not been all bad, not in the least,” Al said after a pause, his voice faltering.

Slowing his pace, Scorpius watched to see if Al would say any more. Making some decision, he halted and brought Al up short as well. Scorp extended an open palm to hold Al’s shoulder, facing him dead on. 

“Your parents love you, Al.” Al felt himself rolling his eyes. “Lily and James fucking adore you, Salazar, it’s disgusting. The person you see taking people for granted is the same man I see never absent from his loved ones’ lives, comfortable maybe but not unappreciative. You’ve got an actual horde of friends who value your wit and your loyalty and your charisma and your doggedness, and who could not give less of a fuck about your surname. Also – don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the little next-generation Slug Club you’ve got on your hands with all those Transfiguration devotees who lose their heads whenever you so much as reach for your wand. You would never have left Hogwarts alone, and your life’s not gonna go to shit even if you fuck up the entirety of seventh year. If it did, what-shitfucking-ever, you’ll get back on your feet. You always, _always_ tell me that what people think means less than nothing. When did you stop believing that?”

Scorp’s eyes are pinning him, soft pale blue around something dark and sharp that transfixes Albus, steals his breath.

“ _I_ love you, Al. And that can mean whatever you want it to mean, but you have to know it. You have that. I couldn’t take it back if I tried, and there’s nothing you could do to make me want to try. Fucking–” Scorp’s hand shook his shoulder. “ _Remember that_ , Al. You have that love and you have your clan and you have your school and you do have a future, one which is just about as clear as anyone else’s. I wish you wouldn’t sell yourself short.”

Al blinked. “What was that back there?” he asked. “In the club.” 

Dropping his hand, Scorpius shook his head. “It’s the best I could do, Al. You… It can be really difficult, sometimes. It’s like I, er, like I said. I’d like a lot of things but I don’t want them at the cost of your happiness. And I can go on with whatever I have – I love myself, too, you know, and I won’t sell myself short if I can help it. I won’t get everything I want in my life, and I will still have an utterly spectacular time of it.” A hint of tongue and teeth escaped with the sweet smile that brought to Scorp’s face.

“I apologise if I made you uncomfortable,” he began. “If you’d told me to back off, I would have.”

“I know you would’ve,” Al replied.

“If I’m honest,” Scorpius warbled with a crooked grin, “I’m quite out of my depth. I can’t think my way out of my dilemma, or scheme or work harder to get what I want. I know that I want those things I said, and then it’s out of my hands. It upsets me to think some fraction of you believes the negative stuff you said earlier about yourself, and I know affirmations from me will do fuck-all in comparison to what you have to do for yourself. Hardly any of this is within my control – which is a very poor situation for a Slytherin to be in, Al, indeed.”

“You’ve barely said a word about Geoff,” Al pointed out with a slow, fond grin. For all that the Malfoy liked to wear his colours with pride, he was also calculated and, yes, he could be considerate.

Scorpius’ attention remained steady and he flicked the lighter he held by his hip without producing a flame. Once, twice, once again. He nodded in response, said nothing.

“You could have. I’d have something to say in your place.”

“‘s not my game, Potter. At least not anymore. I feel like you do have several things to say, so I’m willing to listen now and whenever, but I know what I’m here for and – despite my lapses in the club – I know that’s not it. I’m not a vulture, Albus. I’m a peacock.”

Al beamed, equally mortified and endeared by the trite comparison. “Regarding what you want – you have a list of demands that’s several kilometres long, Scor. Then again, most of it is regarding my peace of mind.” He paused, reminded of something Scorpius had brought up earlier. “You know, you make me _immensely_ jealous as well, do you realise? Have done for years, love.”

His reproach – if that’s what he wanted it to be – fell flat.

Scorpius quirked his lips. “I never claimed to be kind, Al. You see what happens when you label things? You become blind to the real me, who is not above playing dirty.”

A delightful buzz warmed Al’s insides. “You went through all that trouble for me? Scorpius, you shouldn’t have,” he simpered.

Rolling his eyes, Scorpius laughed. He started walking again, coming up on a busier stretch of shops and bars. “Well,” he said, looking back at Al with a grin. “I also just _really_ appreciate a nice, vigorous fuck,” he nearly growled. “If you know what I mean.”

“Think I got it,” Al said dryly.

Scorp pivoted on his heel, bit his lip on a smile, and reached out to tug lightly at the hair by Al’s ear. “I knew I didn’t misplace my faith in you,” he gushed. There was a brittle tremor to his voice still, and Al knew it wasn’t right to be drawing out the conversation – the _real_ conversation – like this. Throwing red herrings and quips so that maybe Scorp might forget he wanted an answer.

“This is it.” Scorpius nodded, waving his arms with a flourish at the pub they’d reached. It seemed warm inside, just dark enough to provide a downbeat ambiance. Tables and chairs, relatively clean floors and counters. No lights flashed, no bass thumped.

Before he could cross the threshold, Al tapped his arm, waved him over to stand aside from the door. “You don’t think…” He stumbled over his words, had thought he had things sorted before they stopped but evidently he was wrong. 

“Hasn’t– Scor, hasn’t knowing me so well ever put you off a bit?”

The man, who’d been a bit preoccupied with an argument happening behind Al, refocused. He considered a moment, seeming riled. “Of course,” he sighed. “You found me out. I said I think I deserve your time because I don’t think very highly of myself at all. That seems very compatible with my personality.”

After a beat, he continued. “No, Al,” he answered. “It hasn’t. Knowing you doesn’t work like that.”

Al scoffed. “Surely it does for some people.”

Scorpius’ expression softened. “Not for me, Alley Cat.”

“Cor, Malfoy,” Al breathed in wonder. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Coming or going, gentlemen?” A man held the door open as the last of his party exited. Back to the stranger, Scorpius pulled a face at Al and whirled around. “We’re staying. Cheers,” he smiled, taking over the door and jerking his head at Al to enter.

Once inside, Al felt a soft nudge at his back. “C’n you find us a quiet table, Al?” Scorpius murmured. “Be there shortly.”

Al nodded and went to claim them a secluded booth in the far end of the bar, by a stage that was empty for the evening. Moments later Scorpius joined him with a small tray in his hands, on which there sat two shot glasses full to the brim with layers of dark liquor. He set it down carefully and glanced up. “I’ve wanted to try one for ages,” he said by way of explanation, and waved a hand over them as though lifting a charm. A noise of protest escaped Al’s lips.

“Hush, Potter,” Scorpius said, laughing. “Everyone here’s in on the joke.”

“We should drink up,” he continued. “Get to the chat again.” He winked, perfectly aware of Al’s unease. “So.” Scorp pursed his lips, gesturing at the glasses between them. “Would you like to raise the stakes or fold?”

Al gave him a blank look. Scorpius rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to take a risk or play it safe, Albus?”

After another moment, Al cottoned on to Scorpius’ literal meaning. “Bluebell flame, please,” he sang with a cheeky grin, grateful to have those words instead of using Scorp’s ones.

Scorpius smirked in concession, it seemed, and took out his wand. With a flourish he lit his own shot with a natural tall flame, coloured blue rising up into golden white and lively, jumpy. With a second spell he lit Al’s with a bright blue, steady flame and offered up a straw to him. “You’ll want one too,” Scorp said. “ _They_ have a fondness for scorching one’s eyebrows off.”

“Safe’s not so safe, then,” Al concluded.

Scorpius simply nodded, absent of comment. Face lit from below, he demonstrated the angle with which to approach the drinks with a straw, holding Al’s gaze. “On three?” he proposed, and they went.

Scorpius swallowed and marinated for a moment, then he smiled, teeth and everything. “Oh, I could absolutely do that again.”

Al quirked an eyebrow – something so indulgent wouldn’t have been his first choice, but it was caramelly, spiced booze and smooth cream and rich liqueur and it went down like a dream. 

“Thanks.” Al winced, aware it came out like a question, but he blamed the 151º.

“No need,” Scorp replied. “They’re on the house.”

“Oh?”

Scorpius smirked, looking a bit bashful and subdued. He shrugged. “I know the bartender, turns out.”

“Know how, Scor?”

Malfoy laughed, rolling his eyes. “You had to ask, didn’t you? She’s from Beauxbatons, couple years ahead of us. Someone I propositioned, once while she was tied down with someone else and the second time after her graduation ceremony.” He paused, apparently embarrassed, which looked remarkably strange on him. “Actually, she’d literally _just_ been dumped.”

Al chortled before he could stop himself. “Incredible.”

Nodding grimly, Scorpius leaned out of their booth a bit to sneak another glance at the woman in question. “Mind you,” he said, returning his attention, “the first time she was very flattered.”

“And the second?” Albus prompted.

“Well, I learned she’s quite adept at hexes. She also announced quite publicly that – now, I might be getting the translation wrong but the sentiment should come through – essentially, that she would be very surprised if my cock hadn’t fallen off already, but if I did still have one that it undoubtedly smelled pungently of venereal disease.”

Having known the man for so long, Al was simply amused and impressed all around. “So you stumble in here, two years later, and rather than getting you a bollocking that gets you free drinks?”

Scorpius just nodded matter-of-factly. “Grudges are poison. Besides,” he reasoned, “I _am_ wearing exceptionally tight bottoms tonight. If she’s feeling temptation, I empathise.”

Al eyed him. “Maybe I’ll get the next round.”

But Scorpius tsked in admonition. “That’s not your place, Al,” he chided, light but stern. “Can’t have your cake and sit around saving it like it’s in a museum. ‘ _Look, but don’t touch’_... none of that.”

Humbled, guilty, Al traced the grains of wood in the table with his gaze. “Shit or get off the pot, hmm?” he mused. 

“Yes, Al.”

“And even if–”

“Even if you had me, Al, you wouldn’t. Not in that way, not like– well, I’m always going to be myself. You know that. The day I stop flirting is the day my heart stops,” he mused. “You said it yourself.”

“And if… would you… I mean, what do you– as far as ‘fidelity,’ do you…?”

“...Well I couldn’t tell you, Al.”

“Do you, like, want it, I guess.”

“In the abstract, yes. Who doesn’t want that?” Scorpius’ eyes narrowed, calculating. “But – and stop me if I’m putting words in your mouth... I have a feeling this isn’t about me wanting fidelity – which is what, loyalty? love? – I think it’s about you? And monogamy? And, possibly, sex?”

Al nodded, feeling his cheeks heat. He didn’t want to have this desire or need in him, knew it was arbitrary in some ways to value monogamy and knew Scorp had always stressed less about things like lines in the sand and labels, but he also knew it wasn’t fair to Scorpius (or to himself) to deny it. 

“I’d never cheat on someone, Albus, which you should know as my friend if nothing else. If there had been conversations about non-monogamy and boundaries had been set then there’s not a whole lot, in theory, that I wouldn’t be okay with happening. But I’m just a part of it. I don’t know, Al, I’d have to figure that out with whoever has the pleasure of being my significant other at the time,” Scorpius replied with a laugh in his voice.

“That’s a funny term, innit?” Al said, and to his ears it sounded more sad than dark. “I’d hardly say you’re my ‘insignificant’ other, now, Scorp.”

“That’s all well and good, Al, but I won’t let you get into another self-pity spiral again. Being not-nonimportant might be good enough for some people, but you know me better than that. I do actually want an answer before last call.”

Scorp’s voice rose. “And Alley Cat, it can be ‘no,’” he said, tentatively placing a hand on Al's arm. “And you’d just need to give me the time and space I ask for if that’s the case. I love you and you couldn’t change that, and you couldn’t lose our friendship or me unless you wanted it and asked for it. If one day I say that you bug the everloving shit out of me or tomorrow I say 'I hate you,' what stays true is that that I really do just adore you every day, whatever else is going on. And you can do fuck-all about it, so don’t let that influence your deliberations. You can give it your best shot, but you won’t shake me.”

It was the kind of thing that many people could say and fall back on, but Al knew better than to doubt it. If he had questions, they weren’t regarding Scor or how Al felt about him.

“I wouldn’t just… _leave_ him. What’s he done to deserve that?”

Fiddling with his straw, Scorpius sat across from him, watchful and silent. Al heard the Scorpius in his head fill in the blanks. Maybe Geoff hadn’t done anything wrong, but there were plenty of good things he had chosen not to do. Al might be many things but he’d never devolved into an inattentive or complacent boyfriend, mostly just an overly tolerant one. Being brutally honest with himself, Al had wondered for months if Geoff _had_ left their relationship when it came down to it, if he’d left Al with the scraps to do the dirty work of formally breaking it off. 

Across him Scorpius stood, and Al looked up with surprise, unaware of any time passing. Calmly, Scorp said, “I’m just popping to the loo. Maybe grab myself a drink. Or two,” he confessed. “Want anything?”

Al swallowed and looked up to meet Scorp’s gaze. “I– um, I’m sorry, Scor. I know it’s not what you asked for... Do you think I could sleep on it? It just– well, it doesn’t feel as simple as we’re making it out to be.”

Pursing his lips, Scorp nodded. “You can have one sleep, yeah. Things look different in the light of day, I know. I’m just, I’m tired I suppose, of hoping and wanting and letting myself just wait around in limbo. I’d like to know where I stand.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Reaching out as if to hold Scorp’s hand, Al rested his own at the edge of the table. To his surprise, his friend gripped it gently with a patient, open expression on his face. Al’s heart sped up but also twinged at the ocean still between them. He knew above all, whatever his response, he wanted so much good for this man and he would not forgive himself if he handled Scorpius’ heart in the wrong way when the time came.

– o – o – o –

Al woke slowly, gently coming out of a fog and recognising the familiar ache in his limbs of a night out. He was remarkably comfortable all the same, swallowed up in cool, airy goose down and head suffering nothing more than a slight throbbing. To his left, he registered without moving, the curtains were all closed, hanging heavy and protecting against all but the most stubborn rays of sunlight. To his right, farther than an arm's length away, Scorp lay in a change of clothes on top of the covers. Above his chest he held a small delicate Remembrall that he was furtively concentrated on, twiddling it between his hands. The orb was perfectly clear, and from the looks of things Scorp's mind was similarly calm.

Alerted to Al's rousing by a rustle of the duvet, Scorp turned his head and set the Remembrall down amongst the covers. He shuffled to lay on his side facing Al, hands curled up snugly at his chest – he looked so damn relaxed and sleep-sweet and content. "Afternoon, Albus," he said with a grin.

"Hullo, Scorpius," Al grunted, wincing – talking didn't help the ache in his temples. "Have you been up long?" He contemplated the curtains, wondering how high the sun was. Vaguely, he recalled having taken a Portkey to Wiltshire in the wee hours of the morning and having nearly upchucked in the Manor’s hedges upon arrival.

"Only a half hour or so. Dad came home for lunch and knocked before he left. Said to give you that." He pointed past Albus at the bedside table where a metal cup sat, unassuming, alongside – of course – the pencil that had brought them home.

With a huff of laughter, Al looked back at Scorpius. "Spoiled brats, we are. Your father," he paused, letting it sink in. "Draco Malfoy has brewed me a hangover potion."

Scorp smiled. "Normally I have to do it myself – which definitely is worse than waiting it out – or he locks up the ingredients if I've been flippant with the Ts and Cs." Leave it to Scorpius to call his parents' rules 'terms and conditions.'

"I'm fairly certain he's putting together a photo album of me just sobbing into my coffee on various mornings," he mused. "Anyway. Seems you're on his good side, Potter."

"Think the niffler incident is forgiven and forgotten, then?"

With a scoff, Scorpius shook his head. He wriggled out of bed and jumped to his feet – Al could hear various joints popping in the process. "No chance," Scorp replied, circling his colossal bed to approach the curtains. Wrapping a hand around one of the cords, he said, "Maybe forgiven, potentially. You might want that before I do this."

Al nodded and rolled onto his side queasily, fumbling the cup and downing its unsavoury contents as quickly as possible. Within seconds his head was clear and light, his stomach settled and his aches had subsided considerably. 

“Your father’s a god amongst men,” Al said, licking his lips so he wouldn’t find the taste of wormwood there later. 

“Bite your tongue,” Scorp retorted. “The walls have ears.” He opened the curtains one by one then, bathing the room in crisp, white daylight from floor to moulding.

Choking on a laugh, Al sat up and began to puff up some pillows to place between him and the headboard. “Do they really?”

Scorpius put on a playful, spooked expression as his eyes dashed around the room scanning the walls and bookshelves, only to shrug his shoulders. “I’ve no clue. I do know Astoria has an uncanny ability of timing her visits so that I’m left scrambling to stuff a bedfellow – or two – in my wardrobe. I think Dad would rather die than catch me, and the same goes for me with him, but do I think he’d enable her? Absolutely. She did it with Aunt Pans once last Christmas, and I think they nearly pissed themselves when the lad opened the door too early and gave them a right show.” 

“Fucking hell. Poor sap.”

Scorp sat himself on the edge of the bed, fishing out the Remembrall and setting it atop the nightstand. He scooched until he was sat by Al’s side with many pillows at his back and one in his lap with which he was fiddling absentmindedly. “Indeed. We should probably work under the assumption Dad can’t be bothered with my drama, though, not with all his own to deal with.”

Al had a feeling that wasn’t completely true, in the strictest sense. Mr Malfoy had always maintained an active, attentive interest in his son’s life and whilst he most likely didn’t surveil Scorpius, he’d always demonstrated an investment. Al could see the potion for what it was, along with a million other gestures he’d experienced not at all because he was a Potter but because he was Scorp’s dear friend.

“I, um...” Al paused, reticent. There was no going back from this point. “I think I’m going to ring Geoff.” 

He turned to assess Scorpius’ reaction. The man’s eyes were wide, his mouth frozen hanging open. A faint click sounded from somewhere in his throat, as good as a pin drop, and his hand stopped dead on the pillow case. “You don’t mean–” he trailed off, swallowed the rest of his words, started again with more vigour. “You better not mean something like a simple ‘Good morning’ phone call or I’ll be forced to hex your testicles off, Albus. It’s just in my blood – we don’t take deception lightly.”

Al smiled wanly. “It won’t be that.”

“Do you know what you’ll say?”

“No... but I know I want to say it as soon as possible.”

Tensely, Scorpius shifted his weight and watched as Al dug around under the covers for his phone. “You’re not budging on this, are you. Alright, well. Did you want privacy?”

Al waved off the suggestion flippantly while he brought up Geoff’s contact. “I kind of doubt you’d follow through, Scorp. Besides, this is for you to hear too.”

Scorp laughed almost nervously. Looking up, Al paused to reach over and squeeze his friend’s wrist. “It won’t take long, love,” he consoled. “I don’t want a fight; he and I have done that plenty and I’ve said what I needed to say.”

In Scorpius’ eyes, Al could see some emotion or response bubbling over and he looked to be suppressing about a dozen responses. Ultimately, his voice low and raspy, he replied, “Must you go by the book, Al? This suspense is very overrated.”

Al wanted to laugh. There could be no rule book for this. “Stuff the _rules_ , Scor. I’m trying to do what’s right by you, that’s the long and short of it.”

Scorpius pursed his lips and slumped on his mound of pillows until he was laying facing the ceiling. He hugged his arms up around his armpits, bringing sheets with them so he was firmly bundled. He was breathtaking, fine light hair splayed around his face, cheekbones sharp and yet delicate in the slanted daylight, the barest crease in his brow, a minute pout on his chapped lips. “Alright then. Get on with it, whatever it is,” he said to the air, glancing briefly over to appraise Al’s expression.

With a nod, Al dialled and closed his eyes, tipping his head back to listen to the rings.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Geoff,” Al breathed. “Hey.”

“ _Oh hey. Al. Have a good night?”_ He could hear papers being shuffled around on the other end, and Geoff sounded distracted. “ _Sorry I couldn’t come along. Missed you._ ”

“Yeah, it was good. I, um, am I interrupting anything?”

“ _Nah, sweets, I’ve got a second to chat. We’ve got some German delegates Floo-ing over in twenty minutes, though, so I can’t stay too long. I still need to brush up on my vocab in order to properly convey how desperately they need to crack down on their dragon egg exports. We’re not all on holiday.”_ Geoff laughed airily, puffing harsh gusts of air over the phone.

“Listen. Geoff, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Like a switch, Al could hear gears shift in Geoff’s mind. Geoff cleared his throat before replying. _“So let’s talk.”_ His tone had become a bit more steely – he certainly had the man’s full attention now. 

Heart hammering, Al shifted anxiously in the sheets. Scorp looked up and met his eye, checking on him. “Right,” Al hedged. “Well you don’t have much time, you said. Maybe we could–”

“Al... I’m going to go ahead and assume this isn’t a talk about the weather or the economy. If you have something to say, I’d like to hear it.”

That he could go many ways with this opening was not lost on Al, but he wasn’t stupid and neither, obviously, was Geoff. He’d known going into this that sooner was better.

“...You’re sure?”

“ _Positive. No better time than the present, Al.”_

“I just... Geoff, do you ever think we aren’t really _working_ anymore?”

_“You were the one who phoned me, Al. Do_ you _think that?_ ”

Al bit his lip. “Um… yes, to be honest. Pretty regularly. We’ve talked about fixing things, but I don’t really think it’s resolved… bigger issues, Geoff. And as a result I’m– I haven’t been very happy, and I doubt you have either.”

Geoff paused, sighing. _“I don’t know, Al. I tried to change but I think there’s been sticking points for both of us, wouldn’t you say? I just don’t see all these ‘issues’ that you do. I don’t like the fights but I haven’t been_ un _happy with us._ ”

But that wasn’t the same thing, was it? Happy and not unhappy were worlds apart.

Al peeked his eyes open and dropped his gaze to Scorpius, who was examining the ceiling intently with ears perked. “But you shouldn’t _have_ to change yourself, Geoff. You and I could try and try and try ad infinitum and it wouldn’t work any better because we don’t work, fundamentally, and we’re both powerless to change that. We’ve always _had_ these big, over-arching issues. You messing about with every little aspect of yourself can’t make for anything all that great, and someone will love you for every part so that every fight isn’t this giant fucking mountain to climb and the good bits aren’t always just a little sour – on occasion they’re just really damn good.”

“ _Yeah,”_ Geoff responded, and it could’ve been non-committal but it felt like Al had struck some kind of chord.

When it seemed as though Geoff wasn’t going to say more, Al spoke up again. “So that’s what I wanted to say. Hopefully you agree but, um… either way, Geoff, I don’t want to go on the way we have been. We both deserve better than that. I know you’re– Shit, sorry, I know you have to go.”

“ _We can talk more later. But it’s okay, Al. You haven’t been happy and I want that for you. We certainly have more we need to say, but this isn’t_ news _to either of us, I don’t think. I think this needs to happen, and I think… I knew it was coming soon enough. Al?_ ”

“Yes?”

“ _I’m sorry for not being what you needed. I know you don’t choose who you fall in love with, but I definitely had my missteps.”_

“Likewise. And, er… thank you, Geoff. For being… great, about this, really. I _have_ loved you, just not in the way you mean, you know?”

Geoff hummed his response. _“I hope you’re right, I hope I do find that someone.”_

“I hope that for both of us, love.”

Geoff was silent for a moment, then he spoke again, voice gentle. _“Hey Al, listen, I’ve got to go. Speak soon, yeah?_ ”

“Sure. Whenever,” Al replied, a bit dazed.

“ _Bye, Al. Take care._ ”

“G’bye, Geoff.”

As soon as he’d ended the call, Scorpius snorted at his side. “You’re very lucky you dated a Ravenclaw, Potter. That conversation would’ve taken ten times as long otherwise, and it would’ve been one hundred times more cringe-worthy.”

“I think you’re absolutely right,” Al replied. He smiled, content and flushed with it, reeling with the nerves of uncertainty. 

“Do we break out the ice cream?” Scorp prodded.

Al met Scorpius’ anxious gaze, dimpling fondly. He snuggled deeper into the pillows and bedsheets and rolled to face Scorp, shaking his head unabashedly. “I think in order to mourn that relationship it would’ve had to have been alive first. How much of that did you hear?” he asked, voice softening.

With a snuffled laugh, Scorp answered, “Most of it, of course. You barely let the man get a word in edgewise.”

“Nonsense. I just have a lot on my mind, and the clock was ticking.”

Scorpius took a deep breath, scanning between Al’s eyes. He raised a hand so his fingers carded lightly through the hair at Al’s temple. “Does it hurt?” he murmured.

Al grimaced. “No, not really. It’s an adjustment. It’s been a gradual thing, as you well know.” Even as he said them the words resonated with thoughts that had been with him for months. There might once have been an ache, a feeling of loss, but then and there he felt nothing more than closure and relief. 

“So what comes next?” Scorpius drawled, his voice unsteady and uncharacteristically quiet. The air was thick between them and what Al wanted most was to sap that tremor from Scorp’s voice, to ease him back into the calm that Al had seen in the man as he’d woken up. He burrowed down deeper in the pleasantly cool, absurdly soft sheets and came to eye level with Scorpius, leaving mere inches between them.

“I don’t want to breathe on you,” Al admitted, whispering. “You don’t deserve to go through that. But I also _do_ want to kiss you.”

He was infinitely pleased to see Scorp’s quirked eyebrow, the peek of teeth between his rosy lips as a smile slipped out. “I can’t imagine it mattering, Alley Cat,” Scorp replied. “If it’s unbearable, there’s always mouthwash.”

“I hope we’re still talking about my breath, Scor,” Al replied.

Scorp’s eyes gleamed. “We are.”

“You don’t seem quite as spooked by the kissing your best friend thing.” Mornings in bed together were old hat and the entirety of last night had been a change of pace but not groundbreaking, however this was uncharted territory and it created a lump in Al’s throat. “Explain?”

“It’s not exactly new to me,” Scorp said, eyelashes fluttering low and red blooming high on his cheeks. “The thought of it, I mean. Maybe it frightened me at one point, but for a long time above all else I’ve just wanted for it to happen.”

At that Al’s pace quickened and he bit his lip, trying to steady the fluttering in his heart and gut. “Gods.” He closed his eyes, took a breath. “I’ve thought about this too much.” Without another thought he ducked his head close, nose nuzzling Scorp’s own and eyes wide with a final inquiry. 

“Go on,” Scorp coaxed with a minute nod, his own eyes big and reverent. Al dipped in and pressed a sweet, delicate kiss to Scorp’s upper lip, lingering there to feel the warm brush of Scorp’s exhale on his cheek. He pulled back to meet Scorp’s gaze, holding. When no sign came that the man had found things ‘unbearable’ Al cupped a hand to his cheek and pressed another unhurried, close-mouthed kiss to his bottom lip, committing the plush curve there to memory. 

Scorp’s lips parted and he let out the faintest moan, arching closer and making it difficult for Al to remember any of his reasons for hesitation. Ears ringing with that sound, he surged forwards to meet Scorp in a wet, fervent kiss and his heartbeat jumped as their breaths became harsher, as their lips met hungrily and it became increasingly difficult to pull back, magnetised as they were. Determinedly, Scorp propped himself up and brought his other hand to Al’s neck, pulling him down and licking up into his mouth shyly at first, but rapidly shedding inhibitions. He made all sorts of broken off noises, soft huffs and faint moans and hums as he explored deeper with his tongue, only retreating far enough to suck intently at Al’s own or bite sweet and playful at his lips. Al couldn’t resist letting his eyes close but he could still feel the sharp heat of Scor’s flush at his palm and the brazen patter of his pulse where his thumb hugged Scor’s jawline.

On a shuddery laugh, Scorp gently pulled back and eyed Al resolutely, as if ensuring he wouldn’t stray far. He sighed happily, slightly out of breath. “It’s really good,” he said, giggling a bit. “The potion is– Salazar, it’s fucking atrocious. I _truly_ cannot manage to ignore it. But I like this.”

“I do, too,” Al admitted. The truth was flowing easily by this point, it seemed. “How could I not?” he wondered.

Scorp huffed, eyes dropping between them. He licked his lips thoughtfully. “You won’t hear an objection from me.”

Brushing a strand of hair from the man’s face, Al smiled – or perhaps he had never stopped smiling. “You know, I feel it must be said. _You_ are a catch, Scorpius Malfoy.”

Rolling his eyes, Scorp quipped, “I’m glad you’re seeing things my way. That was almost too easy.” 

Al smirked. “What’s that? You want me to put up more of a fight, Scor?”

“Bastard. You’re intolerable.”

Undeterred, Al scoffed and laid his head to rest at Scorp’s chest, massaging circles over the man’s hipbone with his thumb. He inhaled slowly, ticking off the scents of citrus, herbs and jasmine above sweat, peppermint and the slightest hint of booze. “Bollocks. I’ve been told not to believe these things you say,” he mumbled. 

Without giving Scorpius a second to retort, Al continued. “Thank you, Scor. Some of those things had needed saying for a while now. And doing. And I know it’s not– er, I’m well aware it wasn’t you being self-serving. You couldn’t have known how I’d react, and that takes the kind of testicles I know I don’t have. The only certainty was that you cared, and that… that means quite a lot. Means everything, really.”

Scorp made a truncated noise in his throat. “I knew two things for certain, really. One was _that_ – of course – but also, Al, I knew you’d be worth the risk. If there was a chance in hell, and I thought there might be, I had to take it.”

Al was staggered by that declaration to the point of speechlessness for a long moment, and truly didn’t know how to respond properly with words. Didn’t know if an adequate response was possible. “This is all seeming very Gryffindor of you,” he finally teased. 

“Watch yourself with the aspersions, Alley Cat,” Scorp said sternly, his voice reverberating against Al’s ear.

“It’s something I have to be grateful for, love, whatever you think it is.” Al twisted to lay a sweet peck to his collar, following with a trail of sucking kisses up his neck until he’d reached the smooth skin behind Scorp’s ear. He lingered there, tremendously keen to see the man blush once again, until he could feel and hear Scorp’s rough breathing. Al pulled back to assess the damage and Scorp gazed back intently, dilated pupils swimming in pools of blue. All at once he looked to Al like both the predatory wolf and the wide-eyed, vulnerable deer. He was the most terrifying and awe-inspiring sight.

“Well then,” Scor breathed. “You’re welcome.”

“I need to go clean myself up now, don’t I?” Al said.

Lifting a hand to caress Al’s cheek, Scorpius nodded. “Absolutely, love,” he said. “Shower’s all yours. There’s spares of everything in the cabinets. _Including_ toothbrushes.”

Midway through clambering over Scorp to get out of bed, Al paused and scoffed. He leaned in close, threatening to exhale warm putridness in the man’s face, then ducked to the side and planted a smooch to Scorp’s pink cheek. “Subtle, Malfoy,” he said before standing, removing his shirt and ambling to the door opposite the bed.

“That’s what they call me,” Scorp replied. In response Al took his shirt, balled it up and hurled it behind him, pleased when he heard the muffled exclamation of outrage as it hit Scorp’s face.

At the doorframe to Scorp’s ensuite Al turned and paused, failing to suppress a grin. Scorpius was settled back against his pillows, seemingly unsure of what to do with the still-warm tee in his hands. 

“After I shower,” Al said, “what comes next?”

Scorpius smiled then, as bright as his namesake, and his eyes were laughing. 

“I don’t know, Al,” Scorp replied. “Do you want to go out?”

And this time around, Al’s answer was right in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you kindly for reading! Comments, kudos, etc. are much appreciated.


End file.
